


my dust will find voice to answer

by ashglory



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magical Girls, F/F, Time Shenanigans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-28
Updated: 2020-04-28
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:55:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23887051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashglory/pseuds/ashglory
Summary: Her answer already tastes of inevitability, but if there is anything that mercenaries understand, it is the weight of a contract.
Relationships: Edelgard von Hresvelg/My Unit | Byleth
Comments: 3
Kudos: 39
Collections: Minigame: Round 1





	my dust will find voice to answer

**Author's Note:**

  * For [VampirePaladin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/VampirePaladin/gifts).



Dead air smears like blood at the back of Byleth’s throat. The girl sprawled on the throne watches Byleth with reptilian focus. Byleth feels like she has been here before. Dream or memory, or is the better question whether this is both dream and memory? 

But where is here, and what is this? 

“Do you want power?” asks the girl. “The power to make history, to change it?”

Byleth has never thirsted for strength. She’s wanted it, certainly, but only enough to keep up with the troupe, only enough to repay Jeralt’s trust in her. Power for its own sake has never appealed.

The girl sees that she’s losing Byleth. Her gaze shifts to the side, almost flickers. And like it was the first break in an overburdened dam, memories begin filtering back to Byleth, too.

“I should have expected that that would never work, not for you.” The girl sighs, and then says, “Then what about power enough to save them?”

 _To save her?_ echoes from somewhere, and this, this feels right.

“Make a contract with me, child,” says the girl. “I’ll give you the power you need.”

Byleth knows/has never known/remembers dragonfire, that flare and bloom; she remembers seeing with her eyes/in her mind’s eye the glittering scales of Rhea (Seiros?) alight under blood-dyed sun. The sting of an axe across her back is at once both imminent, and already familiar.

Her answer already tastes of inevitability, but if there is anything that mercenaries understand, it is the weight of a contract.

“And your price?” Byleth asks.

A grin. Is it teeth the girl is baring, or fangs? “Your heart,” she says.

A heavy price. But the premonition of a ghost with pale hair, pale eyes haunts her like a memory. Perhaps it’s for the best that the Ashen Demon had never really had that much use for a heart, anyway.

“I accept,” Byleth says, and echoes, and dreams.

There’s sorrow in Sothis’s smile, and a burn in Byleth’s chest. Something looping and delicate, engraves itself in the core of her, and Byleth begins to gleam with unearthly light. “Then take my power, child,” says Sothis, proud, and tired, and fading, “Wake, protect them, and change the world. And perhaps you will fare better this time.”

* * *

There’s weight on her back, a thin slice of metal. For an instant there’s pain, but Byleth’s eyes snap open and the world stops-

Rewinds...

Resumes.

A sourceless wind explodes from Byleth. Behind her she hears gasps, a murmur of, “What in the world…?” 

The hair that whips past her face is a pale, luminous green; the cape suddenly around her shoulders spreads like glorious wings. In her hands is a sword she’s never held before, but the worn bone grip fits seamlessly into her grip, like she was made for it. She feels incredible. As light as air and as dazzling as flame; a thin vessel for power; divinity given form. 

The axe strike is all too easy to parry. One push and the bandit is on his back, weapon tossed into the dirt.

There’s no more threat here. When Byleth moves to sheathe her newfound weapon, she finds it vanished into the aether, as if it had never existed. Her mussed hair is dark again, and her coat is surely no cape. But still, her chest burns and aches.

She turns back to her three students. _So young,_ she thinks as she takes in their shocked expressions, then pauses. Surely, they aren’t that much younger? But no, they look smoother, softer, lighter than she expects/remembers.

And, ah- pale eyes, pale hair. Their gazes meet, and this too feels like destiny.

“Are you hurt?” Byleth asks. 

Edelgard startles at being addressed. “No,” she says, uncharacteristically fumbling with her knife as she puts it away. “I’m fine. Thank you, for saving me then. That was- impressive. It was almost as if…” She hesitates.

“As if you were Saint Seiros herself reborn! I’ve never seen anything like it!” 

The boisterous voice that cuts through the forest clearing draws a groan from her father, and shatters the tentative swell of destiny. This feels almost like a breaking point, as if the world were balanced, perfectly, but only just.

Her father banters with Alois. Claude and Dimitri disperse. But Byleth’s gaze meets Edelgard’s again, and like ancient air in a sealed tomb, like a prisoner in sight of an open gate, the words escape Byleth before she can stop them, racing with the need to be said:

“El,” she says, and there’s vulnerability in Edelgard’s stunned gaze that makes Byleth’s heart--what should have been her heart--ache. I’ve missed you.”


End file.
